


The Tailors of Continental

by Sweetbirthdaybb



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, ie the fucking murders and crap that are in john wick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-09 07:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetbirthdaybb/pseuds/Sweetbirthdaybb
Summary: Your family is more woven into the continental hotel and it’s residents than you could have ever imagined. Unfortunately now it's time for you to be enveloped into that world.





	1. Before

So far the past year of working as a tailor and dry cleaner upon special request (which lets be honest is every night when you work in a hotel full assassins) in the continental has had its ups and downs. You didn’t really expect your life to be the way it is currently, all wrapped up in an underworld; though the free room and board at the hotel did make up for it somewhat. You had always had this hotel in the back of your mind, a hazy reminder of what your grandfather had sworn to the hotel’s manager; Winston. Visiting him as a child running around the hallways with your brother, ignorant of the many people in this tall building, retiring to their rooms after conducting their business outside of the grounds. 

You weren't informed about your family’s ‘tradition’ until the end of college. Your father had fallen ill, and oh how he had cried when he held your hand, mumbling about how he had failed his children, jumbled words about trying to get out of the deal your grandfather had struck. You soothed him and urged him to rest and save his strength, your brother would be flying in to new york by morning. When both of you were present in the hospital room, your father took a deep shaky breath and explained what was to happen. When your grandfather had died he took his job at the continental not out of want but out of obligation. Your grandfather made a deal with winston when he had become manager, something about an inescapable deal that your he had to follow through with. Your family would forever be in service to the continental and it’s residents as tailors until the end of your blood line, each generation must serve until they can no longer do so. Your father began to cry again, but still speaking through his tears he explained how he tried to convince winston to spare his children but ultimately it lead to the same conclusion; those who don’t serve will be hunted thus ending the bloodline of your family. 

The only sound in the room was breathing, the air was tense and you didn’t know what to say. What could you say? You didn’t want to look at your brother because you knew what it would lead to. You have to choose between the two of you, who will live their life and who will live in service of the continental hotel. Picking the best tailor would be the best way to try to decide this fate, however you are both evenly matched because your father made sure you both knew everything he did, as grandfather did with him. To his credit, you're assuming it was a backup in case he couldn’t convince winston to change his mind when he inevitably had become the tailor. You close your eyes for a moment and stand up from the cushy hospital chair. You briefly look at your brother from your peripheral; he looked tense and then to your father who just looks so tired.

“I’ll serve as this generation's tailor to the continental.” your brother opened his mouth to argue, or maybe to agree with you, you think bitterly but you interrupt him before he gets there, “I’m the better tailor and you have so much left to do. I will shoulder this burden but know this,” you say turning to your father, '' I will break this contract our family is under even if it takes my last breath.” 

you sit back down in your seat, finally turning your entire head to look at your brother. He looks so relieved and tears are rushing to his eyes, but he refused to wipe them away. instead he jumps out of his seat and into your lap, his face in the crook of your neck; his tears making it wet as he circles his arms around your person. His sobs rack against your body but you hold him steady, letting him grieve. It may seem like your life is forfeit when it comes to your choices about it but you can’t shake this feeling that the third tailor of the continental will be the last of your family.

Your father is able to work until you graduate which was only around a month and a half or so. You let yourself pretend that everything is normal, sitting and chatting with your friends, talking about finding apartments and jobs after graduation. You laugh along with them as if the entire rest of your life hasn’t been decided by your grandfather and his deal. When the time comes to leave it all behind, it was bittersweet. you have never considered yourself a particularly extraordinary person, you weren’t great at most things but you weren’t bad at them either. You were average and it hadn’t bothered you too much. You had thought you would have the rest of your life to figure out what would be something you’d be good at, above average in, something that really spoke to you. It’s half the reason why you decided to volunteer yourself to be the continental's tailor. Your brother had already found what he was good at and he’s so happy to keep going further with it. It would just.. Be so unfair to thrust this responsibility upon him when he already knows what calls him. 

You sigh as you pack up your final suitcase with all your clothes and other belongings in it. You had already boxed away the other items that you’re taking with you to the hotel, since they were giving you room and board you didn’t need to take much of your apartment with you but you did decide to drag some of your favorite kitchen appliances with you for the ride. Your father will be staying and looking after the apartment since he moved out of the continental and needed a place to rent again. You tell him your goodbyes and that you’ll visit soon once you’re settled, and to not be afraid of visiting once in a while if the mood strikes him. Closing the apartment door you head down the stairs with your backpack and suitcase, figuring you’ll take the train over but when you stepped outside a car is waiting in the rain with a person holding an umbrella in front of it smiling at you.

The stranger called out your name regarding you with a knowing smile.

“That is my name, so I can only assume” you say cautiously as you approach, “you're from-”

“The Continental yes,” he puts out his hand to shake your own, “My name is Charon, I am a concierge at the hotel. The manager has sent me to fetch you personally, I have been made aware of your family’s situation.” he says pleasantly. 

You nod your head, ”it’s very nice to meet you Charon.” He nods back at you and smiles again then walks around to the driver's side of the car. You enter the backseat getting out of the rain, melancholic as you drive away from your old normal life and enter your new one; the five gold coins your father gave you before you left weighing heavy in your left coat pocket.

After a couple of months, you settled into the continental perfectly. You learned the rules of this underworld society and what's to be expected of you as a tailor. For being a person who was never especially good at anything you began to gain a reputation in the hotel for getting stains out of anything and an adept tailor to boot. Which when it came to assassins was a trait that they valued famously. you had started to even gain a couple of regulars , people that went out of their way to bring their garments and even sometimes their skin for your careful inspection. Turns out being competent at being a tailor made you even more competent to perform sutures when someone knocked on your door that was running particularly ragged. All of your talents had earned you quite a bit of gold coins and handsomely paid you. Even though this wasn’t a particularly ideal situation, you did pay off your student debt within a couple of months which of course had you giddy since you didn’t expect them to paid off until ten years later.

You did understand quite a few rules when it came to the assassins and the hotel, but unlike your gold coins would suggest you didn’t really know everything about the underworld society. The other night while ironing out a coat that was worth more than a years rent at your old apartment you found a round silver object in one of the pockets. It had beautiful engravings in the front with a skull in the center of it, your curiosity wanted so badly to open it but your better judgement won out and slipped it back in the pocket. Maybe in this world, the less you know about it the better.

One night you decided to go down to the lounge, to hang out at the bar have a drink before going back up to your room to unwind after a days worth of garments. You slid a gold coin across the bar to the woman behind it but she looked back up at you and pushed it back towards you.

“You fixed one of my favorite customers pants. This drinks on me.” she smiled and winked at you which you returned back at her. She put your drink in front of you, you took it in your hand and brought it to your lips. Though the bitter alcohol stung on the way down, it did relieve some tension you didn’t realize you were holding in your shoulders.

From the corner of your eye you caught winston sitting across from someone at a table. He was laid back, clearly comfortable with this person to let his guard down as they chatted. There was a pause then he moved his lips and directed his gaze towards the bar. The black haired man sitting in front of him followed his line of sight which led to you. When he turned you got a good look at his face, you’ve never seen him in the hotel before and his eyes had such an intensity you couldn’t look away. He had long dark hair that framed his face on either side,it was long enough to reach his cheeks, and a beard that was neatly trimmed. He nodded at you and in return you politely raise your glass to him; then you turned your stool back towards the bar again. You finished your drink and went back up to your room, trying your best not to look back at winston and his guest. You could only assume winston was talking about your abilities as a tailor and the reputation that you have made over the last year of working here, even so, you couldn’t get the dark eyes of his guest out of your mind for the rest of the night.

You didn’t seem him again until two nights later. You were on your way to the inside of the hotel, a laundry cart full of clean sheets in front of you as you pushed it towards the entrance. The alleyway being narrow you had to be careful to not dirty up the cart against the concrete walls. That's when you heard distant shouting and footsteps. 

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, why me. Fuck FUCK' you thought to yourself as you lined up the cart next to the recycling dumpster then hid behind it to obscure yourself from view of anyone coming down the alleyway. 

You heard the intense sounds of men grunting and skin being beaten with fists and the sounds of gunshots. That made you close your eyes and hold your breath. There was a pause, silence filled the air for what felt like hours. Then the sounds of footsteps coming closer and they stopped right in front of the laundry cart. You don’t breath when the person moved the cart revealing your hiding spot. You don’t open your eyes when you heard them kneel in front of you. What makes your eyes open is when a metal clang sounds right next to your ear. Your vision reveals it to be the man who was sitting with winston at the lounge. He looks bloodied and beaten but he drags his hand from the right side of your head to show you what had made the offending noise. it was a silver object that had a small door flipped open, it showed a circle with a line through the middle, one half has a bloody fingerprint. You stare at the object then back at the man in front of you, those intense dark eyes once again find yours trying to find an answer to a question he hasn’t spoken aloud. All you can feel you can do in that moment is nod your head. Then just like that he collapses on your knees still clutching the silver round object in his hand.

You’re sure you’re in shock which is helping you act quickly to get on your feet and help the man who is clearly bleeding out on the concrete. You grab the silver object and put it in your pants pocket while trying to pick up the man by his middle hauling his body into the cart. You manage it somehow but do take a moment to appreciate the irony of an assassin who almost looks angelic beaten up while surrounded by white. You wait for the elevator to get to the ground floor and hit the button to transport you to the hotel doctor's floor.

You rapped on the door three times. The man opens it, confusion written on his face as he looks at your bloody dress shirt which used to be white then towards the laundry cart.

“I didn’t order any sheets?”

You laugh a little to yourself, he wouldn't want these blood stained sheets. 

“I think you might be more interested in what’s on top of the sheets” you say.

He peered over into the cart and seems to instantly recognize the man inside of it. He rushes you both into his room cart and all.

“Is it too late for him?” you ask as you place two gold coins on the doctors kitchen counter when you pass it, which he does take note of.

“Hmmmm, for any other person it should be but for this man, it never is.” he says with a slight smile.

The doctor pulls out a cot from the closet and sets it up in the sitting area of his room. You then help him hoist the man's body from the cart and placing him on the cot. You both get to work quickly, more so you assisting the doctor in what he needs and where to suture when he tells you to. It had taken an hour when it was all said and done, the man was stitched up and still breathing. You and the doctor both clean up and stretch from being hunched over for an hour working to save the assassins life. The doctor walks over to a cabinet in the kitchen and comes back with two pills and a glass of bourbon in his hand. He places them on the end table that's next to the cot.

“Bourbon?” you say though it comes out as a question.

The doctor chuckles, “not for me, it’s for him.” he sets the drink next to the pills.

“Better to set it down ready. knowing him he’ll tear his stitches trying to pour one for himself.” he says as he crosses the room getting his coat obviously leaving. So your assumption of having to wait for the dark haired man to wake up was correct. Figures, you are the one who brought him in.

“Make sure he takes those pills when he wakes up.” The doctor calls behind him as he exits the room, “and leave the cot out, I'll put it away myself later,” with that the door to the hotel room closes and you're left alone with your unconscious stranger.

You drag a more comfortable arm chair closer to the cot that was near the kitchen, while you go get it you take notice your two gold coins are gone. 

“Well they’re well earned anyway.” you think to yourself as you curl up in the armchair in front of the cot, watching the sleeping man. It would probably take a while for him to wake up so you decided to close your eyes for a moment, the adrenaline clearly wearing off. Your body is much more tired than you realize from the whole ordeal and you end up falling asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, john wick had opened his eyes half an hour after you closed your own. He tried to sit up but the sting in his stomach was clearly yelling at him not to. He looked down at his torso, it was bandaged and stitched up in a couple of places. He tried to sit up carefully this time and looked around, he was clearly in the doctor's room but the only other person here was the tailor winston had gestured to at the lounge. She was asleep in the armchair clearly worn out from dragging his passed out body back into the continental. He took notice of the glass of bourbon and pills on the end table next to him, knowing this part well he grabbed both items and down the medicine with one drink. He nursed the rest of the drink ice clinking against the glass, while looking at the tailor’s sleeping face. He really does hope giving her a marker wouldn’t be a choice he would regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you all enjoyed reading! I love the world building in john wick so of course i had to be as self indulgent about it as possible. please let me know your thoughts and I hope to see you all next time.


	2. Melancholy Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finally officially meets the new tailor of the continental

When your body significantly relaxed and you felt your head lull a little, your subconscious realized you had fallen asleep and snapped your eyes opened. You were still in the doctor's hotel room, the betraying comfy chair tucked neatly underneath your legs. You go to wipe your mouth with your sleeve feeling fresh drool at the corner of your mouth, your embarrassment had caught up before your foggy mind understood why it was such a problem. You were supposed to be waiting for the man you dragged up here half bleed out to wake up. You rub your eyes immediately and then focus them on the cot in front of you which coincidentally way empty.

All the tension in your shoulders release as you let out a big sigh to the seemingly empty hotel room.

“Fuuuuuucccck” you breath ever so eloquently. If the mystery assassin left and you didn’t tell him about the pills, it could reflect badly on the doctor if he ends up worse off. You didn’t want to ruin the sweet man’s reputation, this was his livelihood after all. 

You stand up quickly, figuring you’d find the assassin before the pins and needles kicked into your legs if you were quick enough and turn to head towards the door. By the time you do though, you stop dead in your tracks; all motivation to leave gone. Leaning against the wall of the kitchen, watching you with those dark powerful eyes, was the very assassin that should have been in the cot with a healing stab wound. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment, you both just stared at each other. Him with his glass of bourbon in his hand, ice occasional clicking to fill the silence. And you standing there with pins and needles settling into your legs. 

“You’re ok.” 

you meant it as a question but it came out more as a statement, seeing as he was proving it to you by standing there like you hadn’t sutured his skin just an hour before.

“I’m ok.” he says, confirming it. He takes another drink from his glass clearly making no effort to move from his spot from the wall, his gaze still on you, waiting, but you couldn’t be sure of what. 

“Um,” you say, trying to figure out what else he could want from you? You dragged him up here, he’s alive, what else is there?

“Did you drink the pills that were set next to the drink?” your gaze follows him when he looks at the table behind you, when you see the pills are gone you got your answer to that question.

“Right. Ok you should be all good to go then, don’t worry about cleaning up here I'll just take care of-” you end up not finishing that sentence because you see that all the extra bloody gauze on the floor was gone, including the suturing kit among other things. The man crosses the room while you look around from your spot for the rest of the mess that was there before you had fallen asleep, he sits back on the cot waiting for you to finish your investigation patiently. 

“I already took care of it when you were asleep,” he says answering the clear question that your scrunched up eyebrows were unintentionally asking.

He gestures towards the seat that you had dragged in front of the cot earlier. You get what he wants but, your legs were still very much still numb from sleeping on them for so long. Taking a deep breath, you move your legs to take a seat in the chair, you’re more than sure you look ridiculous to him even if his face doesn't show it. By the time your butt is in the chair, you look up at him and feel a need to explain yourself.

“Pins and needles.” you say gesturing to your legs, he nods in understanding.

There was another beat of silence and he was still looking at you expectantly. You stared back at him for a moment before averting your eyes, and from the look on your face you didn't know what else to say.

“Do you still have it?” he says leaning back a little on the cot so as to not tear open his stitches. You tilt your head in a form of question clearly not knowing what he was asking you about.

“Do you have the marker I gave you?”

“The what?”

John waits a second to see if you’re joking, though not many people tend to joke with him to begin with. The sincerity of your face though proved enough for him to take you seriously.

“The round silver object,” he elaborates by tracing a small circle in the air with his pointer finger, “that I gave you before I passed out.”

You quickly jam your hand into your pants pocket and pull out the marker to show him. He nodded in confirmation and took another drink of his nearly empty glass. You turn your hand around to take another look at the marker, the beautiful engravings reflecting the soft hotel lighting.

“I’ve only seen this once before, it was in one of my regular’s coat pockets that she had left with me,” you turn the marker around to further investigate it, “I figured it was a more expensive form of the coins we used but i never bothered asking..”

You gaze away from the marker back to him, “am I right?”

He shakes his head and sits up once again carefully before he answers, “It's a blood debt. I owe you and you have the marker to prove it.” 

He waited for it to happen, for the look of smugness of having the babayaga in your debt to cross the tailor's face. But to his own surprise you just stared blankly at the marker not looking at him at all, your eyes distant and clearly far away, so he patiently waited for you to come back.

when you finally blink; you look from the marker and back to him. The words come tripping out of your mouth before you could think better of them.

“Why didn’t you just give me a coin to drag you back in?” you say while your face falls further from shock to settling into an amused smirk, “I would have dragged you in even if you didn’t give me a goddamn coin.” 

You say like it was the most obvious thing in the world, you spin the marker back around so the skull was facing back towards you, “this seems a bit dramatic.” you say lightly as you wiggle the marker in his direction.

“I didn’t have anything else on me to pay you with.” he says simply though there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. He's glad that the assassin's world hasn’t jaded you enough to have left him out to die without some form of payment. You snapped his attention back to you by asking a question that really should have been asked a while ago.

“Well since you and I are bound together by a blood oath,” you say the last part a little bit more dramatically trying to goad another smile out of him; to no avail, “mind telling me your name?” 

He looks caught off guard for a second before returning to his regular stoic state, “you’re new to the hotel.” he says as a statement, a clear fact.

“I’ve been here a year so I wouldn’t say new but,” you stare back at him almost challengingly, “should I know who you are?”

“My reputation follows me more than I'd like it to.” the seriousness of this tone convinces you entirely.

“John Wick.” he says regarding you as he stands up from the cot. You caught his cue and also stood from the chair as you introduced yourself. You both made your way towards the exit of the doctor’s hotel room, the finality of the door click fills the air of the hallway as you both stand in it.

You pressed the elevator button first since you were the closest, the warm yellow light indicating the metal box was on its way to collect you both. You pull at your blood soaked dress shirt, not out of nervousness really because oddly enough the marker broke the ice for you a little bit, under any other circumstances a marker surely would make things more tense. Sure John wasn’t the most talkative person but he seemed nice enough, even somewhat awkward as his lack of small talk showcased. You didn’t mind though, it softened his edge a little bit which made you less nervous. you would even dare to call it a little endearing. 

“Sorry about your shirt.” he says breaking the silence, you look over to him to see him glancing at your button up, the blooming blood stains more apparent in the hallway lighting.

You flatten the area of the shirt you were tugging at and meet his stare, “don’t worry about it, thankfully I’m not a cartoon character so I have other work shirts.” 

“Or a washing machine.” he shoots back dryly though the small smile on his lips indicating his playfulness.

You nod solemnly to emphasize his joke, “or a washing machine.”

The elevator dings and opens its doors to welcome you both into it, the mirror on one of the walls reflecting you both as you walk inside, the door closes and the elevator awaits for an order. You reach out to hit push your floor number, john however, is faster and for some reason pushes the lobby button. The elevator moves but you subtly tilt your head and reach your arm again to push your floor number when his voice stops you.

“We have to see winston.”

your face gives away your confusion as you look at him clearly asking why nonverbally.

“The marker.” he says simply

You feel your face flush with realization, your eyebrows going up while a gentle ‘oh’ escapes your lips, your arm falling back to your side so you relax back into your standing position.

You hear a small deep chuckle. 

You turn to him and cross your arms in a relaxed stance, “What's so funny?”

“Your face, it gives so much away.”

You feel your lips unintentionally jut out a little when he says it, you mean it’s true but damn way to call you out huh? You shift your arms so your hands easily slide into your pockets, your left hand cupping the marker that was occupying the space.

“That may be true but people are more trusting of me because of it, they like sincerity.”

The elevator dings once again and the doors open to reveal the lobby, you and John no longer in the comfort of your own company. You step out of the elevator but he has a chance to retort, though on some level you doubt he would have. You turn back to face the elevator, John, still watching you, still inside of it. So you take your hands out of your pockets, turning them so your palms are facing up and move your leg out so it’s pointing in the direction of the lounge to convey a polite elegance; even if it’s doused in a joking tone.

“Lead the way”

Your boots make grungy music when it comes in contact with the floor, continuously scuffing it, ofcourse the man next to you has such light footsteps you have to really concentrate to hear them. You understand because of the nature of the people who check into the hotel, they have to be good at sneaking up on people but shit a lot of them stomp around the halls when they're off the clock. It seems like your new friend doesn’t really know how to turn it off, you have a feeling if you pointed it out he would make an effort to adjust and make noise when he steps, wanting to keep this observation to yourself you say nothing.

The soft lighting of the lounge washes over the both of you, Winston is in sight at his usual table, he’s comfortable in his seat with a drink in his hand. He glances up at the both of you when you approach his table.

“Jonathan, I see you’ve officially introduced yourself to our tailor.”

You reach your hand out to drag the seat from the table but john’s voice interrupts your action 

“This will be quick.”

“Right to the point then?”

John’s roughed up face and fucked up suit made that obvious, their banter remains playful.

“We need the book, I need to report a marker.”

Winston’s face gives off surprise for a second before he composes it, he’s eyes take their time sliding over to you, regarding you with a very different energy.

“Having Jonathan in your debt is no small feat, I hope you’re aware of that when it comes to asking for your payment.” 

His eyes were dark and his tone dangerous yet still trying to coat it in an air of peasantry, you could only feel confusion. Why would the manager even bother feeling threatened by you? But reality veered and turned its ugly portrait towards you when you remember what John has said upstairs. A binding bond by blood that has to be repaid. You can feel your eyes widen and Winston's gaze harden.

You try to remember to breathe, one breath in and one breath out. Somehow you manage to smile and look back into those dark eyes, the ferocity of your own reflecting back at you.

“I understand.” it came out more icy than you meant it.

By the time both you and John had signed the book, you were dying to leave the room. The warm lighting and atmosphere did nothing to help your growing anxiety of feeling like you were drowning from the tension.

You felt robotic like you were out of your body and watching yourself from a distance, like this was all happening to someone else. Your eyes moved, your mouth pulled and smiled exchanging pleasantries like an expert but your mind was so far away.

As you walked farther away from the table you could feel Winston's eyes boring into your back. But it didn’t matter that he obviously felt threatened with the advantage you have in your literal pocket. He might send someone after you, or he might kill you himself, who’s to say? Though he doesn't seem the type to get his hands dirty.

John’s voice was next to you saying something, but his voice was so far away and muffled all you could hear was white noise.

You both stood in front of the elevator again, an hour had passed but everything is completely different.

“Are you ok?”

You look up at him and consider spilling your guts, letting him see what’s making you feel you’re rotting from the inside out, letting the maggots in your soul see the light and die from how bright it is. His eyes look at you, patiently waiting.

John Wick is a tall and solid tree in the middle of what felt like a goddamn hurricane that was ripping the ground apart and you wanted to hold on for dear life.

But the elevator dinged announcing it’s arrival and you were right back at the continental hotel, cold marble floors; shiny and unforgiving stone.

“Goodnight John.”

You walk into the steel box, the door clicks shut behind you gently. You felt your body ascend as the elevator climbed, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, then at your reflection’s reflection. All of you having the same thought looping like a bad pop song since your conversation in the lounge.

“My grandad owed Winston a marker. That’s why I’m here.”

The gentle hum of the elevator was all you could hear, it was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! no time no see I know but hey I'm here! I hope you're all doing well and being safe, hope you liked the chapter! pls tell me what you thought in the comments :o)


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